Woodlot2
THE STAGES OF MY LIFE
I guess that this is the time to divide up the page, there is really no reason to wade through all of the early years of photos to get to my thoughts and the
problems/issues/opportunities/challenges I have had to deal with. Not everything was positive, at least from my perspective. Often we have no idea of what
 to do or how or when, yet the challenge does not or will not go away. Recently I have become immersed in reading about Alzheimer’s disease.
It would appear that it is a form of Dementia, which turned my thoughts to MS as well. The diseases are different yet the response to each is remarkably
similar. As I have reviewed some of the videos a thought came to me, are we concerned for the person or the effect on ourselves. I have recalled a period
in my life. The summer of the year Jill died I frequently stopped out in the desert on the way home from work. I would take the time to speak with the Lord in
prayer, pleading for Him to release Jill from this mortal life. I had all of the reasoning, she did not deserve it, she had not done anything to deserve where she was,
she had done all of the right things. Yet each time I felt and knew that the prayers were not getting through or at least were not what I should be asking. The
frustration was very high and at times I was upset with the Lord. Why couldn’t I get through. The memory of when I did get through is indelibly fixed in my mind.
One day after a round of pleading with no energy left and full of despair my plea was just give me the strength to deal with things and to be able to return
tomorrow. That plea was heard. I was asking for the wrong thing, it was not about Jill, it was about me. I needed the strength to carry on.
     As I have studied about dementia my thought has been, are we more worried about how these issues affect our lives and disrupt the things we would
like to do, than it is about what the Lord has in store for our loved one.
We never know what turns our life will take, but how we deal with what is presented to us is a measure of who and what we are.
I had a short visit with a person in Sam’s club in California the other day and in the course of our discussion, his comment was that we needed
more love in the world, for our neighbor, who is everyone. Even though we may be from or in the same family we each have different
exposures and reactions to incidents in our life. To say that we know what and how another feels is a falicy. We con not know,
for we have had different experiances that brought us to the same point. Thus we still need to just love them, for who they are.
So much for my thoughts. Now I will build links to health and other issues and aspects of my life.
links (with my wishes)
  Medical                Automotive issues Errors and Omissions
Well this is going to be an interesting venture. I will try to add some dialog with a compilation of photos.
As near as possible I will try to keep them in some semblance of order.
OK, I guess that is me. The next photo may have been earlier but they were all taken at the Stucki homestead on the East River Road
in Coltman, Idaho.
There are 18 months between Steve and I. The next one is Steve holding me.
We must have spent a lot of time together. As a side note if you notice the wrap on Steve’s thumb, that was how we were
trained to not suck our thumbs.We all went through that ritual. Then there was a material that was painted on the thumb
that was just plain nasty tasting. What really worked was time, we outgrew it.
From here we moved to Foley, Alabama where Grandpa Wood (Doug) taught me to walk.
I don’t know where this photo was taken but it must have been in
Foley, Alabama.
The clue seems to be in the clothes I am wearing.
I don’t really remember this time. My earliest memory was after we moved to the airbase in Pocatello,ID.
But even then there was only one incident that prompted me to remember that age.
I fell out of the car.
I don’t really remember but this is probably the car I fell out of. I know that it was my grandfather’s car
and this is the one in his yard, in Coltman. The light colored one was dad’s Studebaker. As the story goes
grandpa was partial to Fords. And if you notice the dark car has suicide doors. For those who do not know
that is doors that open from the middle to the back. Steven and Jerry were in the back seat with me in the middle. They
decided to tease me and took my hat and were throwing it back and forth.Finally it lit on the floor behind Grandpa.
So when I bent down to pick up my hat, I was holding onto the door handle and it was unlocked , well the wind
was able to grab the front of the door and pull me out. The next thing that I remember is having my head bandaged
and going into Grandma and grandpa Wood’s home. I am told that when the car stopped and was backing up, I was
running down the road saying “don’t leave me”.
This was a blizzard year with a lot of snow. This was Inkom,ID. before the willow trees grew large.
Along side the shed we had a swing.
It is interesting how times have changed. We were not always politically correct. This was an annual type of thing that the primary did.
As cowboys we gave equal time to all cultures. I wonder what those trucks would be worth today in that shape?
The time in Inkom was broken up with short times elsewhere. One place was California.
This was on H street in Chula Vista , CA.
We were here in the second grade. I could walk up the street to the corner and catch the bus. The problem was that Steve
could not catch the bus there he had to be at the stop before mine. Most of the time he made me walk with him to his stop.
Then we moved to Quintard Street. There were two houses on the top of the hill. We lived next to a huge Tomato field.
The school was down the hill to the north. There was a dirt road that we could go down to get to school. We always came
in the back door. This next photo is the house on Quintard.
The rod going out the top was for the TV antenna. Even at the top of the hill and in the San Diego area.
My how times have changed. It was at this house that mom killed some rattlesnakes in the back porch.
From here we moved back to Idaho and lived in Inkom until 1959 when we moved to Mink Creek Road.
     When we moved back to Inkom the TV stayed in California, and it was back to the radio. Inkom
did not have TV reception. There was many hours sitting around the radio, trying to be quiet. Many
a time mom would hush us as the radio waves faded in and out.The radio was to the left of
the fireplace, and I have a real visual of mom with her ear as close to the radio speaker as
she could get, telling us to be quiet.
Somewhere along the way Syd grew up and we became a threesome. At least we looked like that
in the photos.